


Bad Boy Spark

by ronandhermy



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Arson, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:57:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronandhermy/pseuds/ronandhermy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian's a bad boy and Mickey's all for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Boy Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shamelessfeelsandshit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=shamelessfeelsandshit).



> Inspired by some pics of Cam looking like a little deviant.

It wasn’t like Mickey didn’t know about Ian Gallagher. A person didn’t grow up in their neighborhood and didn’t know who else was on the bottom of the social totem pole along side the Milkoviches and Carvers. Gallaghers were right at the bottom of the shit heep like the rest of them, except they stuck to their own little family unit more times than not unless they were dealing with the crap Frank started. No, Mickey knew who the Gallaghers were all right.

He also knew that the middle kid, the one with red hair and that stupid smirk Mickey was always tempted to punch off the kid’s pale ass face, was supposed to be in Juvie right about now. Aggravated Assault or some shit. It’s been a hell of bar fight and Mickey would have been in the cell next to him if he hadn’t hopped into the dumpster out back. He’d smelled like shit for about a week but at least he had his freedom, which was more than Gallagher could say.

Except there was Ian Gallagher, stretched out a bit from his previous stature, wearing a worn but still sharp black leather jacket, walking down the street with a smug walk. He hadn’t know people could walk smuggly but God help him, Gallagher was doing so. And he was walking straight towards Mickey.

Mickey felt a bolt of irrational annoyance at the fact that Gallagher was now taller than him, but managed to hide it before the tall fuck stopped in front of him. The older boy was perched on the cold metal of a short street fence, smoking an off brand cigarette. 

“Hey Mickey,” Gallagher said casually as he stood like God’s fucking gift to redheads in front of him. Said it like Mickey and he were old pals. The little fucker.

“What do you want?” Mickey asked, not even pretending to care at this point, but he kept his eyes on Gallagher. Kid had broken Tommy Kinner’s leg so bad he still wasn’t walking right. Mickey could respect a man that caused such carnage, even if he was a smug little shit, but he also knew that type of violence could easily be turned on anyone, even Mickey.

“I’m fine thanks, how are you?” Ian said, like Mickey and he were engaged in some sort of civil conversation. “Yeah, Juvie was shit but it’s nice to be home. Thanks for asking.” And he raised his eyebrows at Mickey as if looking for some type of comment.

“You need me here for this or are you gonna have a whole fucking conversation by yourself?” Mickey asked, gesturing with his hand that still held the burning cigarette between his fingers.

Ian just sighed and gave a half smile before plucking the smoldering tobacco from Mickey’s hand and took a large drag, his eyes hooded.

“What the fuck?” Mickey could help but exclaim, reaching for the cigarette but Ian practically danced out of reach. 

“Nice seeing you again Mick,” Ian said, as the smoke slipped out of his mouth in thick tendrils, before letting out a small chuckle and walking away.

That ginger fuck.

***

After that it became a bit of war of escalation. Not enough to get the families involved but enough that people knew to get the fuck out of the way with Gallagher and Milkovich were in the general vicinity of each other. The teachers at the high school despaired because neither boy would give the other up and they couldn’t fully prove that all the destruction of property and physical evidence of fights were the result of the two boys clashing heads. 

The thing was, Mickey was becoming obsessed with it. He couldn’t help it. It was the first time in a long time that someone was willing to go toe to toe with him again and again and again. Willing to focus so much attention on Micky. Willing to fight with no holds bar but also be clever about it too. And fuck if it didn’t get Mickey hard. 

He was currently jacking off in a bathroom stall during third period having just finished a brutal, but brief, entanglement with Ian. The ginger shit would have a nice black eye but Mickey had a fucking bruise the size of a baseball on his thigh and one to match on his kidney. And fuck if it didn’t hurt so good. 

He pressed his tattooed fingers into the bruise, muffling a gasp, as he tugged at his dick with the other hand. It felt so fucking good. He was still riding high on adrenaline and he needed to get off. What he did not need or expect was to open his eyes and see Ian Gallagher standing, in the flesh, watching him with the bathroom stall door closed firmly behind him. His green eyes were dark, burning with what could be lust or hate, Mickey hadn’t a clue, his full lips parted slightly as he near panted, looking at Mickey with his cock exposed.

Time seem to hang for moment, as both boys looked at each other, taking in the other. Mickey vaguely thought that he should pull up his pants but he was too distracted by the bulge in Ian’s pants. What a nice bulge. If Ian fought like he fucked... Mickey bit his lip and choked on a groan. 

That small noise seemed to be all Ian was waiting for. In a second he was pressed up against Mickey, his hand wrapped around the older boy’s cock, and rubbing against him like a cat in heat. It was like a fucking inferno, burning them but they didn’t care. This had been escalating for weeks, this want, this need, to be the center focus of the other person’s world. To be the north star to the other person’s compass. He might have tried to deny it before. To say he didn’t give a shit. But now that he’d given in he felt so good. It felt so good to burn.

Mickey hadn’t expected his first fuck with Gallagher to be in a dirty school bathroom stall, mostly because he hadn’t been expecting to fuck Gallagher. Sure, he’d thought about it. But he thought it was just a pipe dream. Something to keep him going when he had to fuck a girl to keep his dad and brothers off his back. But now that it had happened, Mickey wasn’t sure what to do.

Ian was leaning up against the other wall of the stall, his head obscuring the graffiti of “If you want a good time call Karen,” his eyes half-closed as he drunk in the sex tinged air. He seemed almost boneless, like a fucking contented cat that had eaten both the canary and gotten the cream. His red hair was all in disarray and his leather jacket was rumpled. In short, he looked like he’d had a good fuck.

Mickey zipped himself back, fighting the urge to run and hide and never look back. He wasn’t going to run. He wasn’t going to let Gallagher win. But Ian was smiling at him, looking more like a puppy then a brutal fighter. Then the red head leaned in, and Mickey found himself responding almost subconsciously, not fully realizing that Ian was pushing his mouth into his until it was happening.

And damn if it didn’t feel good. Mickey felt himself responding almost against his will, and Ian enthusiastically kissed Mickey like it was the best thing since breathing. But Mickey pulled back and gave Gallagher a punch in his arm, not hard, but not soft either. Just enough to reset the status quo. 

Ian rolled his eyes but in a friendly way and said, “So no way was that a one time thing.”

Mickey didn’t reply, just lit a cigarette, took a deep slow drag of the smoke while looking Ian over. And then, with no change in his expression, he offered the cigarette to Ian. As the younger boy reached for it, Mickey just raised one eyebrow slightly, and no other words were needed.

*** 

Mickey didn’t think he could remember a time in his life when he was this happy. Ever. And he tried to hide it, to keep it locked inside, but bits of it kept sliding through the cracks. 

It wasn’t just that Ian was a good fuck, though that boy knew how to use his dick, it was that he was fun to be around. He liked life dirty just like Mickey did, and he wasn’t afraid to get mud on his clothes or blood on his hands if the situation called for it. It also didn’t hurt that the kid had a brain and could hold his own in a conversation or argument.

So yeah, maybe they hung out a lot more than was normal in this neighborhood. Who cares. Everyone just assumed they were bouncing ideas off each other for how to make their rap sheets large and in charge. And sure they fucked up shit together because it was fun and it was needed. They’d broken into an old abandoned factory just to prove they could and stripped the copper wiring for the money. 

***

Ian gave Mickey a gun for Christmas. Just a small sidearm but it was the nicest thing anyone had ever given to Mickey. So Mickey kissed Ian like the world was ending.

Maybe one version of the world was.

***

They’d lit the old house on fire for the hell of it. It had been Ian’s idea, his fingers striking match after match as he’d eyed the old building. He’d wanted to see it burst into flames, to cause the destruction for a change instead of being on the receiving end of whatever his shitty excuses for parents did. Mickey understood that. So he’d brought the gasoline.

It was new gas but Mickey poured it into a rusted old can and put it out back. It would look like an errant spark from the L had ignited the gasoline and caught the house on fire. But the errant spark would actually be the angel of vengeance and destruction in the form of one Ian Gallagher. The boy had fire in his veins and Mickey swore sometimes he thought Ian could light the world on fire with one touch.

Ian had flicked the final match and then they’d both walked away, calmly so as to avoid suspicion if anyone cared enough to report anything, and made their way to their vantage point in a blown out old factory. They shared a beer and a smoke as they waited for the flames to fully ignite, neither of them talking.

And then the house of burning and Ian was shoving Mickey’s pants down to his ankles and making sure he was wet enough to take him. Mickey’s hands gripped the dirty windowsill, the broken bricks scrapping his palms as Ian fucked him from behind. Fucked him like an unholy jackhammer that just kept going and going. 

They watched the flames as they fucked, their bodies on fire with need even as they watched the destruction before them. Neither of them looked away from the carnage they had caused, admiring the work of devils and they felt the rush of power and pride that comes from ruining something _just because you can._ They were blind to all but the flames and so they communicated solely through touch.

And if they should die or burn out so be it, but for now they were immortal as flames.


End file.
